A Bump in the Road
by Countess Jackman
Summary: Nine months; two hundred and seventy days. Unexpectedly thrust on a journey into the unknown, James and Lily Potter are about to learn what to expect while they're expecting.


**Month One**

It was the rush of chilly air slipping over his skin, not the sound of his wife stumbling over his tossed-aside shoes and cursing vehemently, that roused James from his deep slumber. Groaning at being unceremoniously pulled from a pleasant dream, he stretched his muscles underneath what little of the blanket remained on his side of the bed, his vertebrae popping when he curled his toes.

In the en suite bathroom, Lily Potter fell to her knees in front of the toilet, barely able to push the seat up before promptly retching into the bowl.

Though the faint fog of sleep still loomed over him, the sound made James start, a frown appearing on his face almost immediately. A spike of concern jolted through him as his fuzzy mind registered that his wife was not next to him in bed. Swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, he pushed himself to his feet and walked towards the open bathroom door.

"Lils?"

She responded with a gut-wrenching explosion of her dinner.

James grimaced, slipping into the small room and kneeling besides his wife. "All right?"

Grunting, Lily pushed her hair out of her face to glare at her husband. "Do I look all right to you?" she growled fiercely.

"I was just -" he stopped talking as Lily pushed him aside, sticking her face in the bowl and vomiting. "Ew," he muttered under his breath as he gathered her long auburn hair back into a makeshift ponytail at the nape of her neck.

James rubbed her back soothingly as she emptied the contents of her stomach, her petite body lurching painfully each time. She made a noise that might have been one of content in the back of her throat, but James couldn't be sure if she was pleased by the circular motion or just groaning over the pain in her belly.

She threw up three more times before her retching subsided to dry body heaves, by which time Lily was liberally spewing curses. "It's your damn fault, you know," she moaned as she pressed her forehead against the cool lip of the tub.

"My fault?" James repeated incredulously. "How is this my fault?"

"_You_ ordered the pizza."

Rolling his eyes, he decided it was best not to argue with his wife, especially not when she was sick. Instead, he continued rubbing circles into her back, pressing the occasional kiss to the back of her clammy neck.

* * *

><p><strong>Two weeks later<strong>

James was sitting at the kitchen table, munching on a piece of buttered toast and sipping on freshly brewed coffee as he perused through the morning paper, when Lily walked into the room, fumbling with the clasp of her watch. Upon entering, the redhead froze, her nose wrinkling in distaste as she gave a hazardous sniff of the air.

"Good Merlin, what is that awful smell?"

He frowned, but didn't look up from his paper. "Dunno," he mumbled with a shrug. The International Quidditch scores were much more interesting that whatever his wife was smelling; she'd always had a rather sensitive nose.

"Did you forget to take out the rubbish?" Lily asked as she rummaged through the cupboard, looking for a mug. She paused, giving another experimental sniff and immediately regretting it. "It smells like rotting rubbish in here. It's disgusting."

"No, I took it out last night. You asked me to, remember?" James said slowly, sparing his wife a brief glance. He shook his head at the sight of her determined expression and flipped the page of the paper. Bulgaria had lost to Finland, but Croatia had surprised everyone by delivering a crushing defeat to the Germans. In his peripheral vision, he saw his wife reaching for a cabinet, but stopped her before she could open one of the doors. "You won't find any mugs in the cupboards."

"Where-"

"Next to the coffee pot."

She looked to her left and sure enough, there was a freshly cleaned mug waiting for her use. Smiling softly to herself - and ignoring the knot of nausea twisting her stomach - she poured herself a cup of black coffee and moved to sit at the table with her husband. When she drew near, however, her stomach gave a lurch and it was all she could do to keep her mouth clamped tightly shut.

Noticing the peculiar behaviour, James looked up from the paper, a deep frown on his face. "Lily? You okay?"

She scrunched up her nose and nodded, despite the bile coating the back of her throat. "I'm fine," she muttered, pulling out the chair and sitting down.

James wasn't convinced. "I'll get you some water."

Nodding absently, Lily raised her mug to her lips and took a quick sip of her coffee, hoping the aroma would block out the horrid stench wafting up her nostrils, but it did little, save scald her tongue.

"Here," James said, leaning over his wife to place a cup of water on the table.

As the urge to vomit became so overwhelming, she pushed back her chair and shoved her head between her knees, Lily knew what the source of the horrible stench was. "It's _you_!" she coughed, her mouth tasting like an unpleasant mixture of sandpaper and paste.

"Yes, dear," James said with a faint nod, not sure where Lily was going with this, but following her anyway. "It is me, your loving, devoted, and doting husband who pleases you in ways -"

The air rushed out of his lungs as Lily punched him in the stomach, though she had meant to hit his arm. "That's not what I meant, you dolt!" she exclaimed, cautiously lifting her head to glare at her husband. "_You're_ the wretched stench!"

A scandalised look tainted James' features. "Me?"

"Yes, you," the redhead growled, reaching for the glass of water. She chugged half of the glass, grimacing at the taste. "You smell like a rotting pile of dragon dung. When was the last time you had a shower!"

"Just this morning!"

She raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Are you sure?"

"'Course I am! I think I'd know if I had a shower or not," he retorted, though he gave the sleeve of his tee shirt an experimental sniff just to be sure. Shaking his head to himself, James leaned towards his wife, sticking his neck within inches of her nose. "See? Smell me!"

Lily tried to push him away before he could get too close and she could inhale too much, but he was too solid for her. The scent assaulted her nostrils, sending her stomach into a frenzied heave. She couldn't hold onto it any longer; she doubled over in her chair and spewed all over the kitchen floor.

* * *

><p><strong>Several days later<strong>

"Please?"

Lily slammed her book shut and glared up at her husband, her irritation etched deeply into her face. "For the last time, James, I do _not_ need to go a Healer!"

"But you've been sick for the past few weeks!" James argued, his raised voice laden with concern. "It's not natural - it's like you're the Antichrist or something."

"Hey!"

"Well, what d'you expect me to think? You're spewing all over the place all the time," James said in a rush. "If you don't get yourself checked out, the next time I look at you, your head will be spinning in circles like a bloody owl!"

"I think you mean the exorcist, James," Lily corrected, rearranging her legs so her feet were resting in her husband's lap. "Anyway, I've just got a stomach bug. There's one going around, you know."

James snorted as he sank back into the couch cushions, pushing her feet away from him. "Then why aren't any of our friends sick?"

Lily rolled her vibrant green eyes. "I don't know - maybe because they haven't gotten it yet?"

"How can you contract something if it hasn't gone around our group of friends?" James questioned, narrowing his hazel eyes at his wife. "I'm not sick and the only person who's been over here in the past few weeks is Sirius, and Merlin knows we would know if he was sick; he whinges so damn much, like it's the end of the bloody world."

Lily returned her husband's look with steel. "You make a fair argument, James, but your friends aren't the only ones we've been around," she said, leaning forwards to pick at a piece of lint clinging to his jumper. "We've gone to Order meetings and -"

"But no one's sick!" James insisted.

She rolled her eyes again, shifting into a position for suitable for reading. "Honestly, is it such a big deal? It's fine, I'm fine." Cracking open her book, she removed the bookmark from its page and tried to locate the spot where she left off.

"Yes, Lily, it _is_ a big deal," he said. "At least it is to me."

"Why?"

"Because the thought of you being sick makes me sick," James said, with so much earnest, Lily couldn't help but believe him. "Call me a poof if you want, but you're my wife and I love you, and I want the very best for you. Now will you please make an appointment with the healer?"

"James," she whinged pathetically.

"Please, Lils?"

Lily sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll go."

Grinning, James leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to his wife's forehead. "Thank you."

"I already know I have a virus, though, so it'll just be a waste of time, but I'll go."

James shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "Think what you will, Lily, my dear, but I doubt it's just a stomach bug." He picked up her foot, which had slid down to his knee, and kneaded the arch with his thumbs.

Furrowing her brow, Lily looked up from her book. "What do you -" she paused at the knowing look on his face - and because he had hit a cluster of nerves. "_No!_"

He grinned hugely at her expression. "Yes."

"Absolutely not. It's a virus, not a - well, _you know_."

James shrugged his shoulders. "If that's what you think."

"It's not what I think, James, it's what I know."

"Okay, if you say so."

Lily pinned him with another steely look, her lips pursed into a thin line. "I do say so," she replied imperiously.

"Okay."

"You're infuriating."

"But you love me," preened James, gifting her with another megawatt smile and pressing down on the sole of her foot.

Arching her back as he hit a sensitive spot, Lily sighed in contentment and said, with more affection than malice, "Unfortunately."

* * *

><p><strong>The next day<strong>

It was with a begrudging groan and a promise to have a headache every night for the rest of the week that Lily left the house and went to St. Mungo's. Last night, she had made the promise to go to the healer eventually. What she wasn't expecting was for James to reveal that he had already arranged one for her the next day, and that she was going whether she wanted to or not. If she didn't know that James had her best interests at heart, she would have slaughtered him right there in the kitchen, but she couldn't find it in her heart. Not when he was wearing those stupid Batman sleep pants and his hair jutted up every which way.

Lily wasn't scared of hospitals, per say, but she didn't much enjoy the sterile smell and the cold feel of the place. It crept over her skin, evoking the need to scratch an itch that didn't exist. But more importantly, it annoyed her, but not nearly as much as waiting for the bloody Healer to return with her test results.

Ever since James had suggested that she might be - well, the point was that she couldn't let it go. She hadn't given it much thought, but it _was_ a possibility. In fact, it was more of a possibility than a stomach bug, if she was being completely honest with herself, but there was no way she was going to consent to being wrong in front of James. She may have loved him, but she couldn't stand when he gloated - and she was absolutely sure he would gloat about this if he was right.

Lily shook her head, dispelling the thought and redoubling her attention on the door. Perhaps if she stared at it long enough, the healer would come breezing through with a vial of potion that would cure her near-constant nausea.

Almost as soon as the thought drifted lazily through her mind, the door opened and the healer walked into the room, her bright green robes seeming to provide their own light in the rather poorly lit space. Lily's heart leapt into her throat as she waited for the healer to speak, shifting about uncomfortably on the exam table.

"Well," the dark-haired woman said, turning to face Lily with a smile on her face. "I've got some good news."

"Recovery time is quick?" Lily asked hopefully.

"If you consider nine months - or in your case, eight months and a few days - quick, then yes," the healer said, her smile widening, "recovery time is quick. Congratulations, Mrs. Potter - you're pregnant."

* * *

><p>James was waiting in the living room, perched on the arm of the sofa, when Lily walked through the front door of their flat. He rose to his feet immediately; he appeared anxious, twisting his fingers and shaking his foot. "So?"<p>

Unwrapping her scarf from around her neck, Lily faced her husband and gave a small nod of her head. "You were right," she said softly.

His answering grin was so wide, she thought it might just fall off his face. She couldn't help but smile in return as he scooped her up in his arms and whirled her around, all the while peppering her face with short kisses.

They were having a baby, and the next nine months (eight months and a few days), were going to be very interesting.

* * *

><p>AN: What d'you think? Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!


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